


A Night at the Langham

by hoomhum



Category: Sherlock (TV), Torchwood
Genre: Crossover, Edging, Jack Harkness Flirts, M/M, One Night Stand, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, pre-Holmes, the year is 1998
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-24 20:19:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20913518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoomhum/pseuds/hoomhum
Summary: Once upon a time, Jack thought he would get bored on Earth with just humans to faff about with.Every once in a while, he found a bed partner that surprised him.





	A Night at the Langham

**Author's Note:**

> To Merinda, who wrote a tweet that contained the words "Jack and Greg, with Greg just edging him ". It was not a porny tweet, but the fic I've written because of it is. 
> 
> To those of you who read this, I love you.

This wasn't Jack's first rodeo, not by a long shot, yet somehow in a line of partners that could stretch to the moon it was here, in an upscale hotel in London, near the turn of the century, with a human that he found himself barely able to hold it together under an onslaught of unexpected pleasure.

Greg wasn't giving him much choice. He was all brown eyes and a sure smirk, wearing premature silver in his hair with confidence. Jack's fingers scrabbled in that hair now, trying for purchase without being rude, as Greg eased his mouth off of him for the second time in a row before he could shoot off. It was a type of torturous, exquisite pleasure.

Jack couldn't believe his luck.

It wasn't often that Torchwood One required a briefing in person from their satellite offices, but Jack was always the one volunteering for the job. Too long in one place made his feet itch, and there was something about London. He could've made it back to Cardiff on a later train, but the lights of the Langham were calling his name— it'd been a favorite of his since the eighties. The 1880s, that was.

It was there that he'd spotted Greg. He was the uncle of one of the flower girls at the wedding that had been held earlier that day— she was his sister's cute kid, apparently, and the wedding of friends of the family. It hadn't take much of Jack's charm to get the mothers and aunts gossiping, not when Greg had shown up without a plus one and Jack's enquiries started near the open bar.

"You're killing me," Jack groaned, as Greg's lips descended again, a tight seal of pressure around the engorged head. At his words, the man pulled off again.

"Am not," he asserted, shimmying forward a little more. His chest dragged over Jack's bare thighs as he sought a more comfortable angle. "Got good evidence you're enjoying this. And you promised to come inside me." 

"In your mouth is inside," Jack pointed out. It was a good mouth. He'd been intrigued by Greg's smile, then his charm, and now his tongue. When he'd invited him upstairs for a private drink and kissed him in the elevator he hadn't expected the hand on his cock, the whispered promises to put that mouth to use if only Jack would come inside his arse, would fuck him til he forgot his own name. 

Once upon a time, he'd thought he would get bored on Earth, with just humans to faff about with.

Every once in a while, he found a bed partner that surprised him.

"In my arse, like you promised." Greg pressed his bum up, reminding Jack that he was supposed to be multi-tasking here. He picked up the packet of lube he'd dropped in favor of grabbing at Greg's hair and applied some to his fingers. It took concentration to move forward, as Greg was licking his way down the base of Jack's shaft, apparently delighted by the dark peach fuzz covered balls that nudged his chin with each indulgent lap. 

Jack could feel his orgasm budding again. It didn't take long to build after the two close calls that Greg had pulled him away from. Moving from touch alone he pressed two slicked fingers into Greg's arse. The man's body resisted him, and he groaned at the pressure, but he didn't pull away, instead pushing back against them to encourage Jack to continue. The sensation of the groan against his skin, which quickly turned to a hum as Greg slipped one of his balls into his mouth, had Jack gasping, grabbing at Greg's shoulder with his free hand.

His entire body felt like a live wire, tremors of pleasure zinging along his skin. He opened his mouth to give warning and—

Greg pulled off.

A trail of spit linked his mouth with Jack's dick for a moment and in that second Jack thought he might just come anyway. Then Greg wiped his mouth against his own shoulder and wrapped his hand like a vice around the base of Jack's cock, his grin feral. 

"Not yet." 

Jack didn't beg, he never had and he wasn't going to start now, but he did groan and start working the hand in Greg's arse faster, pressing deeper and tugging at the rim of muscle to loosen it. Greg let him work relatively unmolested for a bit, before he seemed to decide the danger of orgasm had passed. Then he turned his efforts to coating Jack's dick with the rest of the lube from the abandoned packet.

"Okay," he said once that was done, pushing himself up and moving to straddle Jack. Jack helped to steady him, a light touch on his own dick to ensure they lined up, and then Greg began to sink down onto him. 

He went slowly, but without ever stopping to catch his breath. His body enveloped Jack's dick millimeter by millimeter and, enraptured, Jack held his breath as he watched the whole show. His hands settled lightly on Greg's hips, soothing the heated skin with gentle brushes of his fingertips.

When Greg bottomed out, his head tipped back in pleasure and his eyes slipped closed. The hands on Jack's shoulders clenched once, then twice, before Greg began to rise again, going just as torturously slow as he had on his descent.

"Damn that feels good," he muttered around a sigh. Jack found his gaze caught on the man's lips, wind chapped as they were.

"Does it?" He reached blindly for Greg's cock, a solid handful that was smearing precome against his belly. "I couldn't tell."

"No, don't." Greg batted his hand away, leaning forward to alter the angle. "Wanna come like this."

"Can you?" Jack asked, breath catching slightly at the thought. "Just from my cock?"

"Mm— maybe." Greg sank down again and ground their hips together on the downstroke, still going far too slowly for Jack's taste. It was delectable, all the same. "That and taking charge of someone who's too used to getting his way. Are you close?"

Jack could have lied, but he liked this little game. It was fun to be at Greg's mercy for this, and he knew whenever his orgasm finally came it would be one of the best he'd had in some time.

"Nearly," he said, nowhere near as coherent as his partner. The warm, wet heat of Greg's arse was too much for him, denied as he was.

"Hand," Greg demanded, rising up again. Jack moved his hand between them, offering his fingers and assuming that Greg would sink onto those instead. Instead Greg guided those fingers into a tight ring around the base of Jack's cock. "Not until I've come, yeah? Then you take what you want."

"You're a cruel man," Jack huffed out, leaning his head back against the wall. He kept his grip tight, though, staving off impending orgasm. At his words Greg stilled, catching his gaze.

"Alright?"

"Alright." He caught Greg around the shoulders, pulling him down to kiss him lightly on the lips. "Go on. Before you do me in."

Greg began to ride him, movements smooth. He was a picture, braced against Jack, silver head tipped forward and panting as he took his pleasure. Slowly at first, but then with increasing speed, pressing his swollen cock between their bodies. Jack held tightly to the base of his own cock, determined to keep his word. He felt already like he was seeing stars. 

Then Greg came, groaning loudly as he did so and making a mess between them. His body convulsed around Jack's cock and Jack, sensing his opportunity, surged upward. Greg landed on his back on the mattress with a thud as Jack got his knees under him and began to thrust, pounding into Greg with all of his pent up desire. 

"Fuck," Greg yelped as he was manhandled, his arms coming up to curl around Jack's shoulders. He had to be sensitive after his orgasm, but he seemed to relish in the rough treatment. "Yeah, give it to me!"

It wouldn't take long for Jack to come at this rate, not with all the teasing he'd enjoyed and the way Greg was panting in his ear, egging him on. He leaned in, wrapping one hand over the man's bicep, while the other braced against the mattress. This was easily the best fuck he'd had in years, maybe even decades, and he just needed a little more—

Suddenly Greg went tense against him and started twisting away. It took a quarter of a second for Jack's mind to catch up and release him, realizing that he was reacting to the tinny sound of a mobile phone ringing. There was a squelch of lube and precome as Greg slid off of him and leaned over the side of the bed to fetch his trousers, answering the mobile before he'd even righted himself.

"Lestrade… uh huh… "

Jack focused on not breathing too loudly, fists clenching in the mussed sheets. Greg shot him an apologetic look. 

"Sir, I—" He looked visibly frustrated. "Yes, sir. Right away, sir."

He rang off and met Jack's gaze, looking chagrined.

"Duty calls?" Jack guessed, settling back on his heels. His cock bobbed luridly against his stomach, unaware that the proceedings had been put on indefinite hold. "What's the emergency?"

"Murder." Greg grabbed a bit of sheet and began to wipe at the mess on his stomach, before giving it up as a bad job and reaching for his shirt. "I'm a sergeant with the Met." 

"I do love a man in uniform." Jack watched as Greg buttoned himself up again. It had its own sort of appeal. He settled back against the headboard, giving his cock a lazy stroke.

"Plain clothes," Greg said with an awkward laugh, scrubbing a hand through his hair briefly and then reaching for his trousers. "God, I'm so sorry about this. You were good. Really good. I'll make it up to you sometime?"

He pulled out his wallet and found a card, but seemed to think better of it. Jack couldn't blame him. Earth in this century was so ass backwards about men fucking other men. Instead Greg scrawled his name and number on the pad of paper on the bedside table. 

Jack gave him a wink. "If you can get back here before I leave in the morning, you can make it up to me then." He doubted that would be likely, but neither was him ringing Greg up out of the blue. He might be a good contact to have professionally, though.

Dressed, Greg patted down his pockets and then crossed back to the bed. He kissed Jack, taking hold of his chin and pressing their lips together roughly. He drew a single finger up the length of Jack's cock, making him shiver. "Don't wait up."

When Jack finally peeled open his eyes, the room was empty and the door swinging closed. He took his cock in hand again and began stroking furiously. Despite the many false starts and the inherent unsexiness of being abandoned in bed, his libido jumped at his touch. After just a few strokes, his orgasm began to rush through him, taking him over.

He came, and came, and came, it seemed. It felt as though his entire body was contracting with pleasure. When finally his shaking subsided, he was loose limbed and boneless atop the mattress.

It was the most intense orgasm he could remember in ages. As he lay panting against the pillows his gaze landed on the telephone number written starkly in blue on cream colored paper. 

Alright, maybe he  _ would _ give Greg a call. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
